Sticks and Stones
by JudyH
Summary: A tag to "Sex & Violence": the conversation that had to take place, sooner or later.


STICKS AND STONES

They had been riding for a couple of hours now. The afternoon sun glared in the Impala's rear view mirror, the only indication they were traveling east, no particular destination in mind. The tape player was ominously quiet, the silence between the car's occupants heavy and brittle. The miles rolled on.

A nondescript mom and pop grocery store came into view near the Iowa state line. Dean rolled the Chevrolet up to the gas pumps and cut the engine.

"You want anything?" He asked as he slid out of the car.

Sam shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

Dean filled the tank, capped the tank and went inside to check out the snack aisle. He emerged several minutes later with enough snacks and sodas to keep them fortified for the rest of the day. It wasn't until he reached for the door that he noticed his brother was no longer in the passenger seat. _Probably in the john._ He sniffed a faint odor of gasoline on his hands as he tossed the bag in the window, thinking a trip to wash up would be a good idea as well.

He rounded the corner of the building, his steps trudging and dragging in the gravel. His shoulder ached and his limbs were stiff as he blew out an exhausted breath and rapped on the men's room door. Frowning as the door swung open, Dean stuck his head into the grimy and obviously empty stall. _Where the hell did he go?_

His question was answered as he turned toward the edge of the parking lot, where a tall figure sat slumped on a picnic table on the edge of the woods. He walked over to the table, gravel crunching under his feet as he approached. Sam gave no indication that he was aware of his arrival, his hands clasped between his knees as he sat staring into the distance.

"You ready?'

"Not yet." Sam replied without looking back.

"Well, don't take all day. I'll be in the car."

Sam raised his head. "Dean, we need to talk."

_Here we go._ "I think we've said enough for one day, don't you?' Dean turned to walk away when Sam's head turned toward him. The shell shocked expression on his younger brother's face, the same one he had worn since their…altercation…unwound something in him and he turned with cold fury in his eyes.

"You want to talk." It was a cold statement, not a question. "Well, I don't."

He turned to walk away, ignoring the sound of crunching rocks as his brother's feet hit the ground.

"So, that's how it's gonna be from now on? You're not even going to give me a chance to…."

"To what?" Dean whirled and took a step back toward him, his voice low and controlled. "To make it all better? I am so not in the mood for this."

He strode back to the car, his brother's footsteps echoing his own as he followed. Sam had anticipated Dean's retreat to the Impala and, with a few long strides, stepped in front of him before Dean could reach the door.

"You really think I meant those things I said back there?"

"Well, you did say them." Dean said as he planted his feet and stared his brother down.

"You know that wasn't me talking."

"I think it was, but you know what? I'm a big boy and I can take it. Now get in and let's go." He moved to step around Sam, but his brother refused to move.

"The siren said," Sam paused, took a breath, then continued. "He said I wasn't the brother you wanted. You said you couldn't depend on me anymore. I need to know if that's the way you really feel."

Dean shook his head and looked away, unsure of just how honest Sam really wanted him to be at this moment. "This is not a good time to be asking me that, Sammy," he finally replied.

"You were going to kill me, Dean. Has it gotten that bad between us?"

"No, I…."

"Yes, you _were. _If Bobby hadn't shown up when he did, I'd be dead now."

"Shut up, Sam." He shouldered past his brother and kept walking, around the rear of the car and back toward the woods. He didn't need to be reminded of how close they had come to destroying each other that day. Every word, every blow they had exchanged was right there, seared into his brain. His brother's question was a reasonable one, one he had been asking himself all day: _Was it the siren's spell, or have things really gotten this bad between us?_

Dean stopped beside the weather worn picnic table, staring off into the distance much as his brother had a few minutes before. He heard Sam's steps as he approached, stopping silently behind him, waiting.

Dean finally turned, glancing up but unable to hold his brother's gaze. "Look, you know that was the spell. It wasn't me."

"Why does that excuse work for you and not for me?" There was an edge of anger in Sam's voice. "That's crap, Dean. Either it's all bullshit, or it's all true. You can't have it both ways."

He stepped closer, his voice softer and more apologetic. "I know I said some horrible things and for that, I am so sorry."

"Sorry because you finally let it slip how you really feel?" Dean asked, the challenge obviously in his tone.

"I'm sorry he made me say things to deliberately hurt you," Sam said, ignoring the bait Dean had tossed his way. "I know you're not weak. I know you're not scared of anything. Hell, I've seen you face down things that scared the crap out of me."

"Well, there's something else you're wrong about, then."

"What?" Sam asked, blinking his confusion.

"You wanna know what I'm scared of?" Dean paced around the table, his boots scuffing the dusty ground. "I'm scared of this whole damned "breaking the seals" crap. I'm scared of having all this responsibility dumped on us. And yes, I'm scared of Lillith, because I don't think we can beat her, and we're gonna go bloody and die, trying."

"We don't have a choice," Sam said. "This is not just about you and me anymore."

"Yes, it is." Dean planted his palms on the rickety table and leaned forward. "It is, because you're getting sucked into this…this _obsession_ with Ruby and your freaky powers, deeper and deeper everyday." He cut Sam off before he could respond. "You're changing, Sam. Maybe you don't see it, but I do. You're letting that demon on your shoulder come between us."

"And what about that angel on _your _shoulder, whispering in _your _ear, huh?" Sam said. "He spouts some cryptic gibberish about you having a "mission", but where is he when we're taking the hits, when you need him? I'm here, Dean. I'm always here, but where is he? What has he done for us?"

"He pulled me out of Hell."

Dean heard Sam's breath catch, saw him step back and look away. "I know that," Sam said in a low voice. " I know he did for you what I couldn't do, and now you feel…obligated. I understand that." Sam sat down heavily on the table, refusing to look up.

"When you were gone…."

"Sam, don't go there…."

"I knew what you were going through," Sam continued. "For me. It was all I thought about, you know? My first thought every morning, the thing that kept me from sleeping at night; knowing I had failed you. You were dead, gone. All I could think about was how I wanted to die, too. Ruby saved me from that. I know how you feel about her. I know you don't trust her. But _I_ know, as surely as Castiel saved you, Ruby saved me."

Dean shook his head, refusing to say what he knew Sam wanted to hear, refusing to validate Ruby's intentions. Sam glanced up and then he spoke again.

"When time was running out on your deal, Ruby offered to teach me what I needed to know to take Lillith down." Sam stood and turned toward his brother. "You stopped me then, Dean, and look what happened. And now you're doing it again."

Dean turned away, pacing around the picnic table again. _How do I make him understand? He's asking me to just hand his life over to a demon. A demon he obviously trusts more than me. _The flame of anger, of resentment, that just the mention of Ruby's name triggered flared up in him as he turned to face Sam again.

"So, the fate of the world rests in _your _hands? Yours and _Ruby's?"_

"Isn't that what the angels have been telling you? That _you're_ on some holy mission?"

"Cas isn't a _demon_, Sam. There's got to be another way." The look of sadness, of resignation, on Sam's face made his heart ache. It was as if his little brother had already given up the fight. "That's all I'm saying."

"What if there isn't?"

"Why can't we do this together?" Dean asked. "I remember a time when we said we would go down together, go down swinging. We both want the same thing here…don't we?"

Sam sat down on the table again, his head hung low. "There was a time when you wouldn't have had to ask me that. You really don't trust me anymore."

"Trust goes both ways, you know."

"Yeah, well, you weren't the one about to get turned into sushi back there." Sam glanced up, a hesitant smile on his face. "I guess I know how you felt now after Meg got her hooks into me."

"And the asylum," Dean stepped closer. "Let's not forget that. I still remember get shot up with that load of rock salt. You're still one up on me in that department."

"Yeah, I'm still in the lead." Sam's voice lost its lighter edge of a moment ago, and Dean glanced over at his sudden change of tone.

"After all, I did finally get you killed."

"Sam…."

Sam stood suddenly, strode away a few steps, then turned back, fury in his eyes. "Lillith tore you apart, _murdered_ you in front of me, and laughed while she was doing it. I want her, Dean. I want to take her down and I don't care what it takes." He blew out a deep ragged breath, his fists clenched at his sides.

"I want to do to her what she did to you. I want to laugh while _she _bleeds."

Dean stared at the cold expression in the familiar eyes that looked back at him, stunned by the hatred he never thought he'd see in his little brother's eyes.

"So, you're not going to stop."

"I can't." Sam's words were no more than a harsh whisper. "I'm sorry."

Dean almost forgot to breathe as Sam strode past him toward the car. He waited until the passenger door closed before he turned around and followed. Sam was sitting in his normal spot, same as ever, but not the same, his eyes fixed on the windshield and the road that stretched out ahead of them. Dean stopped as he reached for the door, the words that left his lips whispered too softly for any ears except his own.

"_I'm sorry, too."_

END


End file.
